rebirth

Two Things:

1) I'm getting divorced. This blows.
2) I've decided to try Jesus and church again. This scares me.

Isaac was the first real, stable romantic relationship that I ever had. We still love each other, though we weren't very good at being married. But god-dammit, if we didn't try.

There are a few take-aways that I've been able to muster over the last few months. First and foremost, I am a stronger, more productive, self-assured woman because of him. I have learned eros love because of him. I am 100% a better person because he loved me. How can I be ungrateful for that?

I know and have always known that he will be such a fantastic daddy to his future kids. My faith in that is unwavering.

I mourn for the loss of my extended family.  I was (am) extremely blessed to have phenomenal in-laws who loved me like I was their own. I was blessed with four fantastic sister/brother-in-laws and three really great nieces and nephews. I will miss them. I do miss them. I can't even have phone conversations because I'll just burst into tears. How do you thank someone for loving you like their own child for 8 years? How do you say good-bye?

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My grandmother passed away in September. We weren't exceptionally close, but I never doubted her love for me. It was simple and pure and unwavering. Her last 5 years on earth were pretty crappy. Death never seems very gracious. It runs amuck, overturning and disturbing everything along it's path.  God's silence did not go unnoticed to me in the past years where my Grandma, my family and myself prayed for her return to Jesus. It certainly did not go unnoticed in the chaos surrounding my grandfather's passing. I was angry. And hurt. And I felt turned against.

In the final days before my grandmother passed, I felt a sense of peace for her. I felt Jesus. Like she was safe. And I felt loved in the most simple and pure way. She loved her Lord the way she loved me - unwavering. And in the end, it was the simplicity of her faith that led me to believe she is ok now.  And please believe me when I say that I realize how stupid and weak that sounds to some of you. It sounds simple minded to me as well, I not even going to deny that.

Between the divorce and the death of my Grandma, something in me has changed. Through the shards of brokenness and hurt and pain, there is some form of light that is shining through. It is not bright, but it is there. It is hope.

So now I sit here... weeping uncontrollably for dreams that have passed, but holding out hope for the newness that's bubbling through. I am not the same woman I was 20 years ago. 6 years ago. 4 months ago. I have changed - I am broken and hurt and dirty and untrusting (in others as well as myself and in God) and righteously angry about things. I am a vulgar, liberal, unmarried, childless woman who questions everything, including people who don't seem to question their faith. I'm deeply embarrassed and annoyed at what most American Christians seem to think is persecution. I'm humiliated at the way Christians treat other humans in the name of their loving God. But I'm betting on Jesus. I'm betting that even if no one else loves me or I ever find my place or if I never stop questioning my faith in humanity, that what he taught is true. What he spoke and what he showed by example is true love. I'm betting all on Jesus.

So if anybody knows of a place where hurt people go to heal. Where they are not looked upon for what they can give to further a fund. Where ALL are accepted and loved. Where the weary tread. Where the broken go for shelter and are loved for who they are and not who they have been, then give me a ring. Cause I need a respite in Jesus.

pain

I tend to pen either ridiculous blog material or what could be considered somewhat intense, deeply personal musings.  I do that in ‘real life’ too… I think it’s how I keep my sanity…. Regardless, this is one of those deep crappy sappy ones, so if you’re not in the mood, now may be an excellent time to go toss the football with the kids in the backyard…

It’s no secret that I struggle with my faith, my weight and self-esteem.  I doubt that I’ll ever NOT struggle with it.  Most days I can deal with it. But sometimes, they combine their nasty forces for evil and release some super storm. Sorta like when Jean Grey Summers became the Phoenix in X-Men… sorta…   

And as a side note… most everything ‘serious’ that I ever blog about is extremely personal.  Not to say it shouldn’t be shared – it’s not called the World Wide Web for nothing – but as an exercise for me.  There’s a few things that I’ve learned over the years… A) Bottling it all up and keeping it to yourself is extremely unhealthy and can have terrible consequences.  B) Somebody, somewhere, is probably going through or will go through some variation of whatever it is that you’re feeling at this moment.  C) Blogging for me is a way to keep myself honest. It’s almost a religious or holy experience for me. Being able to emote through written words releases an endorphin of sorts. It’s that gasp of extremely valuable air that you need while you’re in the ocean, allowing you to be carried away by the waves for a few more moments.  

It’s also a wonderful way to procrastinate when you don’t really want to talk about what’s bothering you…

Okay, so here’s my baggage.  I’m still really upset over the whole Africa trip thing… I feel like I was going there with very pure intentions and it was mistaken as something otherwise.  I’m not exactly sure how it could have been, but I’m devastated by it. Isaac sometimes tries to explain the possible reasoning behind the other person’s response, but really, all I want to hear is, “They were completely wrong and you were completely right.”  That’s probably totally immature and I’m sure there’s a few of you who would say, “Just get over it”, but hey, that’s where I’m at. That wound is still very, very sore. And I’m having a lot of difficulty moving past it.

I hate how much weight I’ve gained. My breathing is labored, airplane seats are tighter, clothes don’t fit. I eat all the time. I eat everything. It’s my comfort and my thorn. I have no idea how that works, but I’m stuck in that hamster wheel again.  I joined Weight Watchers again in February. I’ve gone once since then. I haven’t been to the gym in months. I really don’t want to go back. What I really want to do is sleep. And eat. And then sleep more. I have headaches all the time. I don’t go certain places or see certain people because I’m so freaked out by how many pounds I’ve put on since I last saw them.  When I was thinner, I liked some of the attention I got and the clothes that I could wear… but I hated hearing people comment on in. It was like a little stab in my heart when people would say something about how “skinny” I was. (For the record – I’ve never been skinny.  Just less fat.) I wasn’t able to take the compliments well. That, and I still felt like a fat person stuck in a thinner person’s body.  Weird shit, I know.

 

Ah yes, and now on to the most painful one.  The one I don’t really want to talk about, but feel like I should… the stupid, God damn baby issue. Nothing in this world makes you feel like a bigger loser as a woman, than not being able to pro-create.  Zippo.  Nada.  Zilch.  There are so many emotions that come with it. Anger is really the one that I’m pretty stuck in lately.  Haven’t bothered with birth control in over 3 years. “Trying” for around a year or more. To some people that nothing. But to me, it feels like eternity.  Periods are never an enjoyable experience, but once a month, I am now reminded that I suck at making babies. It makes me hate myself and my body even more. Again, a million and one emotions all the time. Guilt, shame, anger, betrayal… all kinda wrapped up in there. Until 3 or 4 years ago, I didn’t actually want a baby.  At all. (side note: my incredibly good friend, Katie, is fond of reminding me that whatever I swear I don’t want to happen, eventually happens. So please, let me take this time to say, “I never want to be rich. I never want to be rich. I never want to be rich.”  Okay, back to seriousness…)  I had no desire to be a mom, mainly because I thought I would be so terrible at it. My child would hate me; I wouldn’t want it; I’d be a horrible parent; I wouldn’t want to be involved in its life; there would be something wrong; I would miscarry; I wouldn’t be able to afford it… Lots of deep seeded shit that I had to wade through.  With a lot of help from my shrink and friends, I was able to release some of that pain.  I think I believed that if I let go of the pain and the unsubstantiated thoughts, everything would work out. However, Life does not work that way.  So now I’m a bit tangled between being angry that I can’t seem to produce the one thing my body was made to create and all of those funky, ugly thoughts and emotions bubbling up again. The fact of the matter is, I could write this and next month, be pregnant and have this really great kid/life.  But I’ve also thought that for the last 3 years.

People try and say really nice, helpful, comforting things. While I appreciate the thought, they aren’t helpful.  Some people close to me have offered to pray. That’s fine if you want to, but please don’t tell me about it. I don’t pray anymore. I feel like God’s kinda just thrown me into a bunch of shit the last several years, and I’m worn out. I’m burned out. I no longer belong. I have lost my tribe and I feel homeless. I’m not going to go to church and beg God for something that he already knows I want. Something I’ve prayed for long ago. I will not use him as my magic genie any more.

I’m depressed again and that frustrates the life out of me. I feel l have nothing left to give most days. I am mentally and physically worn out. I don’t enjoy the same things that I used to. I want just a very few select group of people around me so I kinda of retreat otherwise. I would love to just sleep all day. But I can’t. I get really needy when I get like this. I feel deserted and alone and like a failure. I feel like I bog down my marriage and friendships and life. Blah.

I dunno. So maybe there’s someone out there who sometimes feels alone or sad or wants to have a kid and can’t seem to.  Or maybe you think I’m as big of a loser as I do. Who knows. Feel free to comment or post your struggles anonymously.

How Very 2003 Of Me...

I've waited a bit too long to  begin writing this... My eyes are becoming increasingly heavy... This will either prove to work towards your benefit, as it will be a shorter blog than usual or will do the opposite - just be too drawn out and miscomjobulated. You know, one of these things.

It's been a while since I've written anything. If you know me for any period of time, you'll begin to notice that this is usually a tell tale sign that something funky's going on in my life on some level, and I just don't feel comfortable sharing it.

The short and sweet of it is that over the past 4 months, I've been emotionally hurt, lost money, lost even more pride, experienced fantastic highs and pretty bad lows. (that last part just made me sound bi-polar - I'm not)

The following may be more for me, but I'm going to attempt to share via bullet points what I've gone through/learned/continuously learning.

* Due to a series of unfortunate incidents, my depression worsened. This makes me feel broken, miserable, discarded, worthless

* I also lost/spent a LOT of money in a very short amount of time. This makes me feel foolish (1 time I had to go to the doctor and the other time I thought I was doing something right), naive, stupid, juvenile, a terrible spouse

* Finally began recognizing that I do binge eat. I don't think I've actually been hungry since 2010. I've gained 24lbs since September. 5bs just in the last month. On some level I'm able to recognize that this is unhealthy. On a more emotional level, I'm so overwhelmed with everything else, that I just don't care. Realizing all of this makes me feel shameful, unworthy of friendship and love, a major, ginormous embarrassment to my friends/family.

* There's some really great things about being married. Being sad a lot and feeling like you (unintentionally) put an extreme amount of pressure on your spouse to make you "okay" is terrible. Whether real or not, I feel awful after sharing things with Isaac. I partially feel relieved to get it off of my chest, but the other part of me feels like a giant Eeyore that moozied on into the room. I've tried to express it before, but it's not my spouse's job to make me 'happy'.  It's just not.

* Periodically I get my panties into a wad about Christians who seem to present their version of the gospel as a spiritual 'wham, bam, thank you m'am'. I don't believe that's what Jesus taught. I typically refer back to the section in Luke 5 when Jesus tells his posse and some church folk that, as the New Living Translation puts it - “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do."
Somehow we've tricked ourselves and others into believing that 'Jesus Saves' means that we'll never have to deal with our drug or sex addictions. Our judgemental attitudes or loose tongues. Marriage problems will evade us and as long as we don't get a divorce, we've proven we really listened to God. I have done a fabulous job at convincing myself on many occasions that because I really searched out my faith, or that I did all of the right "steps" that I'll never have to deal with my own "afflictions". Because I love Jesus, I shouldn't ever have to really deal with recurrences of depression, doubt, self-loathing, anxiety, stress, obsessive tendencies or over eating. A) This is total BULL SHIT  B) No sane person ever expects to go to the pediatrician as a baby and never have to see a doctor again for the rest of their lives. C) Nor should any sane person rack their faith up to check marks.

As much as I talk about my friends and the need for community, I'm still pretty into me. I would like to believe that I should have mastered (insert something here) by now. I don't really need continual saving....

I'm sure there were other witty, intelligent thoughts that were dying to get out, but I've successfully stayed asleep on the couch with the computer in my lap for at least the last 45-60 minutes.... so I'm calling it a night.

Feel free to discuss/share (anonymous is always a swell safe way to share in my book) your thoughts, successes or struggles here. I can't promise that I'll always respond in the most loving way, but I promise that I'll fall asleep on the couch multiple times with the aim to...